


And A Gooey Caramel Center

by fictionalcandie



Series: Smitten 'verse [2]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex doesn’t magically resolve everything. Well. Most of the time. (i.e., a fic wherein Kris and Adam wake up.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And A Gooey Caramel Center

The sound of his phone ringing wakes Kris. His head is pillowed on Adam's shoulder, and he almost doesn't bother getting up to answer it, but he also has to pee, so he wiggles off bed, tucking the blanket back around Adam before fishing his cell from the pile of clothes (his and Adam's clothes, that they took off right before they had sex, fucking _awesome_ sex, holy crap that really happened) and swipes his thumb over the screen to answer the call, not bothering to check who it is first.

"Hello?"

" _Hey, Kris, honey, it's Leila_ ," he hears, and freezes. " _Is Adam with you?_ "

Kris is standing in his bedroom, naked, surrounded by discarded clothes, looking at Adam, in his bed, also naked (and sporting some pretty obvious and ridiculous sex hair — did Kris do that? Kris doesn't remember doing that), and _Adam's mom is on the phone_ , asking him if Adam's with him.

Oh, shit.

Kris opens his mouth and tries to answer, can't make any words come out — but Leila's talking again, sounding maybe a little worried.

" _I thought he was planning to come straight home after the play but it's been hours, and he's not answering his phone — is he there? With you?_ "

"Uh," says Kris, croaking it out through a too tight throat, "I— Adam—"

"... _Kris_?"

"Yeah. He's, uh, he's— Yeah, with me."

Oh, is Adam ever _with Kris_ right now.

Kris is going to hell. He's got a first class ticket, and everything.

But man, is he gonna enjoy the ride. ( _Ride_ , heh, like how he— No, he may be going to hell but he is _not_ gonna stand here and think about riding Adam's cock while he's on the phone with Leila, he's just not going to do that, even if Adam's cock did feel amazing inside him, so big and hard, pushing just right against his prostate, filling him up so good and going so deep and— uh. Right.)

" _Can I talk to him?_ "

"Uh, he's— he's, um... asleep?" says Kris, stammering and probably generally sounding like the definition of awkward. And guilty.

There's a pause.

" _I see,_ " Leila says after a moment, and she sounds different now, suddenly more careful, and Kris is such a horrible person, he's just been _defiling this woman's son_ and now he can't even reassure her that Adam's okay and not missing, or anything. " _Well. Do you mind waking him up for me?_ "

 _... oh, she totally knows_ , thinks Kris. "Sure. I mean, no, of course— Uh. Hang on?"

He moves back to the bed and shakes Adam's shoulder.

Adam stirs, mumbling something into his pillow. Kris shakes him again, and Adam rolls partway over to glare at Kris with one eye, questioningly. God, he's totally the most adorable thing ever — Kris wants to watch him wake up _every day_ , to see if he always looks like this. He wants to watch him wake up _especially_ if Adam always looks like this.

Kris holds out the phone.

"Wha?" Adam blinks, then looks at it with, thankfully, both eyes. "That's your phone."

"Yes, but it's _your_ mother," says Kris.

Adam's eyes widen. "Oh," he says, "Oh, um, shit."

Well, Kris agrees with _that_.

"She wants to talk to you," Kris tells him, handing over the phone.

Adam looks at the phone warily before putting it to his ear and saying, "... Hi? Mom?"

Because he still has to pee — that's totally the only reason, okay — Kris abandons him for the bathroom.

When he comes back a minute later, Adam is sitting all the way up, leaning back against Kris's headboard with the blanket pooling around his hips, and saying, "Uh, what? No, Kris is fine, Mom."

Kris stops in the door and, when Adam notices him, gives him a questioning look. Adam just frowns uninformatively and says, "Of _course_ I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be sure? Why wouldn't he be _okay_?"

There's a pause. Kris fidgets.

Adam suddenly narrows his eyes at Kris. "... weird _how_ , Mom?"

"Oh, my God," Kris groans. He rubs a hand over his eyes. "She can so tell, can't she?"

"Okay, okay, okay," Adam says, sighing dramatically and looking about as long-suffering as is (Kris is sure) humanly possible. "Yes, I promise to keep an eye on my boyfriend. No, I won't be home to— Wait a fucking second, _my what_?!"

Kris stumbles over to the bed so quickly, he stubs his toe on one of Adam's boots.

"How did you know?!" Adam is demanding, his voice starting to get shrill. He pulls the phone a little away from his face so he can gape at it. "What do you _mean_ , you've always—"

"Gimme that," says Kris, snatching the phone. "Uh, hi, Leila, ma'am, this is—"

" _Kris_?" says Adam's mother. " _Hello again, honey. Adam says he's staying the night_?"

Kris feels his face flush. "Yes, ma'am. He— I promise it's not, uh— I'm not—"

Leila interrupts him. She sounds _amused_ , not worried that perverse things are going to be done to her son by his older, trusted friend. " _Oh, hun. Adam is nineteen, Kris, I don't have_ any _illusions about what you two do when you're together._ "

Holy. freaking. shit.

It doesn't matter that Adam is making demanding faces at him, Kris absolutely cannot form words right now. Not for Adam _or_ Leila. Is she really saying what he _thinks_ she's saying?

Apparently she is.

" _Honestly, I'm just thankful that you do such a good job keeping the PDAs to a minimum._ " She chuckles, a little. " _Nothing against you, Kris, and I do love my son, but I don't need to see him making out with his boyfriend in front of me. And I_ definitely _don't need to hear you having sex in his room._ "

Oh, God.

Kris is going to die of mortification. Or his face is going to spontaneously combust. Or both.

"We've never had sex in his room," he blurts.

Grabbing for a pillow and covering his now-also-flaming face, Adam makes a strangled noise.

" _And I thank you for that,_ " says Leila. Yep, she definitely sounds amused. " _Really, though, I'm a little surprised he hasn't stayed the night with you before now. Was that you trying to spare me? Because I promise, honey, I really have no objections to you taking my son._ "

"Uh," Kris stutters, "uh— what, really?"

She chuckles again. " _Please, Kris,_ " she says cheerfully, " _take my son. No, really, take him, get him out of my house._ "

... Kris is still asleep. And he's dreaming. That's what this is, it's a dream. It has to be.

" _It's so much quieter without him here to fight with his brother,_ " Leila adds. " _And I think he's got more makeup in the upstairs bathroom than I have ever owned in my_ life _. It'd be nice to get that out of there... And you've got that place all to yourself! Seriously, hun, take my son._ "

"Oh, my God," Kris says again, and, okay, that's it. He can't handle any more of this without thoroughly embarrassing himself. "I... gotta go. Here's Adam."

He pulls the phone away without waiting for her to reply, and thrusts it desperately at Adam, who drops the pillow to eye Kris's phone warily. "Take it," says Kris, "take it, take it, take it, please take it!"

Adam takes it.

"Mom?" he says cautiously. A second later, he shrieks, "Ohmigod, _MOM_! You didn't!"

Kris flops backwards onto the bed and tosses an arm over his face.

He's hiding, and he's not even ashamed of it.

Oh, _God_.

It seems like forever, but then Adam is saying "Mom, stop laughing, I hate you! Ohmigod, Mom, good _bye_ ," finally, and then hanging up with a disbelieving "Holy shit, I've never been this embarrassed in my _life_."

Kris acknowledges that with a vague noise.

"Holy shit," Adam says again, and he sounds just the slightest bit off, like he's got his lips pursed up the way he does when he's nervous, "I don't even know what to say right now."

Kris doesn't, either, so they don't say anything at all, and he thinks about what a horrible person he is, while Adam breathes steadily and just a little too fast next to him. Embarrassed or not, the sound of Adam’s breath like that — so close and so hot and Kris _knows what it feels like on his skin holy crap_ — is going straight to his dick.

“I feel like I should probably apologize,” Kris says eventually, breaking the silence, because he does, but also because saying something is probably the best way to distract himself from the fact he’s getting hard again (and he’s naked and uncovered so Adam can tell, is probably looking at it, maybe even getting hard watching Kris get hard, and that’s hot, so hot, God). He lifts his arm a little and cracks one eye to peer up at Adam.

Adam’s still holding Kris’s phone, actually he looks like he just froze in the act of leaning over and dropping it on Kris’s chest. His face is tight, and scrunched up slightly. “Apologize?”

“For that. With your mom.” Kris licks his lips. Adam is so _close_ , and he’s naked, too. “And for before. With... the sex. I should apologize.”

“You’re sorry you had sex with me?” says Adam, and he doesn’t look wary and confused anymore, he looks kind of stricken.

“No,” says Kris. He drops his arm back over his face, because he cannot actually look at Adam while he’s got that expression on his face, and sighs. “I feel like I ought to apologize. That doesn’t mean I’m sorry.”

Adam doesn’t say anything for a moment, then Kris’s phone lands on his chest, sudden and cold, and Adam says, “Oh.”

“I probably should be, though,” Kris says. “For— taking advantage, and—”

“You didn’t,” interrupts Adam. He grabs Kris’s arm and pulls it off his face. “Don’t be absurd.”

“But I—”

“Did not take advantage of me,” Adam says firmly.

"But I—" Kris tries.

"Fuck." Adam shakes the arm of Kris's he's still holding. "Do you even know how long I've wanted to do that, Kris?"

Kris bites his lip, looks at the blush blooming on Adam's cheeks, at Adam's eyes all fierce and steady above that; fuck, but Kris thinks he’s gorgeous. "No," he admits.

"Ages. Practically _forever_ ," says Adam. "If anything, I bet _I_ took advantage of _you_. You're all nice and you hate saying no to _anyone_ , especially me, and—"

"You didn't take advantage of me! Don't be stupid," Kris says.

"Then don't _you_ be. Besides." Adam slides his hand down Kris's arm and across his chest, knocking Kris's phone off onto the bed, until his palm's spread out over Kris's heart, fingers curling over his ribs. The touch has goosebumps breaking out all across Kris’s skin, has his dick twitching, getting even harder. "Everybody already thinks we're together. Even my _mom_ , fucking hell. If _she_ doesn't think you're molesting me against my will or whatever, neither should you."

"That's your argument?" says Kris, after a moment. "'Other people think it's okay, so you should too'? Seriously?"

Adam's blush gets a little more pronounced. "Shut up. You're naked, okay, you can't expect brilliant arguments from me."

Kris raises his eyebrows at Adam, resists the urge to look down and see if Adam’s hard too, hard like Kris is just from being this close to Adam. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

"Shut up," Adam says again, and leans over and kisses him.

—

When Adam pulls back, Kris has a tiny, soft-looking smile on his face and his eyes are doing that fond thing they do sometimes when he's _really_ happy — like when he's on the phone with his mom, or a couple of times when he talks about the kids he gives guitar lessons to in his spare time — and he's just entirely so fucking beautiful that Adam doesn't even know how to handle it.

"Please don't make me give you up," he says quietly, without really intending to. "I don't... I'd really rather not."

Kris's breath catches. He licks his lips, distracting brush of his tongue over bright puffy pink that leaves them shiny, and after a second, he groans, "I really _am_ going to hell, aren't I?"

"Kris?" says Adam uncertainly.

"Of course I'm not going to make you give me up," says Kris. He says it like it should somehow have been _obvious_ , though Adam doesn't really think it was, like, _at all_ , and it makes him feel a bit young and stupid all over again, but also Kris grabs Adam's hand and pulls it up to press a warm, tender kiss against his palm. It's totally, inexplicably hot, really distracting and, yeah, giving Adam _all_ sorts of ideas. "Adam..."

"I'm staying the night," Adam blurts, because he needed to say _something_ , before his body decided to take over and respond to his name being said like _that_ by doing something embarrassing like rutting up against Kris's hip and coming all over him. That probably would not go over well. Probably neither would saying _where are the condoms, I really want to fuck you again_.

Kris's forehead wrinkles up in an absurdly adorable way. "Uhm. Yes?"

"That means I'm going to be here for _hours_ ," adds Adam.

"Yes, the night is usually several hours long," says Kris. "Adam, what are you—"

Adam shifts on the bed, so he's pressing all along Kris's side, grinds his erection a little against Kris's hip.

Kris's lips part and his eyes widen, getting where Adam’s leading. "— _oh_."

"Yeah," says Adam.

Kris lifts Adam's hand and kisses it again, smiling against his palm and murmuring, " _Hours_ , huh."

Adam nods.

Kris lowers Adam's hand, still smiling. "I wonder how you think we ought to spend those _hours_."

"I know you've said that— I need to keep in mind that reality isn't porn and not all guys want... um." Adam falters, blushing a little. "Want actual, uh, penetration, every time, that some people don't even ever want to have it, but I was— I'm really hoping we can do that again? Sometime?"

For a moment, Kris just stares, and Adam can't read his expression at all.

He has a sudden, _terrible_ thought, worse even than the one from before, which he'd thought was as terrible as terrible thoughts could get. "Kris," he says, with a startled, trembling sense of horror, "you're not one of those guys who don’t ever want it, are you?"

"No," blurts Kris, shaking his head, and giving an unsteady little laugh like he can’t help himself, "no, _God_ no, Adam, I'm not, couldn’t you tell earlier? I pretty much _always_ want to, I promise."

Adam is embarrassingly, unspeakably relieved. Not that Kris not liking bottoming would have been the end of the world or anything, not that Adam wouldn't have still wanted him, wouldn't still want to date him, but having Kris but not actually getting to ever _have_ Kris, now that he’s gotten a taste of what it’s like (better than anything ever, maybe the best thing in the whole world _ever_ , maybe even better than singing), would have been a very, very special kind of cruel, unusual punishment. Would have been _torture_ , even, and possibly _fatal_. "Oh," he says. "Okay. Um. So, does that mean... we _can_?"

Kris hesitates for a second, his lips twitching like he wants to laugh again, then nods. "Yes," he says, and he sounds kind of deliciously _eager_ about it, even. "Yes, absolutely we can."

"And soon?" says Adam, hopeful. "Tonight?"

"How about now," suggests Kris. And then — holy fuck, yes — he wiggles around a little and hooks his leg over Adam’s hip, thrusts up against him. "I mean, we only have _hours_ and I want to sleep more at some point."

"God," Adam whines, pouting at Kris to stop himself beaming like a loser, and rolls his hips at Kris, slides their erections together, a little too dry to be really comfortable but perfect anyway, "stop making fun of me or— or I won't fuck you!"

Kris chuckles. "Yes, you will. And you'll get me ready first, too."

Adam's head immediately fills up with images of Kris spread out beneath him, of Adam's hand where Kris's had been earlier, stretching Kris for Adam's cock, of Kris writhing the way he did before but on _Adam's fingers_ this time. Adam's mouth falls open a little and Adam's cock gives an eager little jerk.

Kris flattens Adam's hand against his chest (where it’s still resting, even though it’s kind of an awkward angle, because Adam likes the way he can feel Kris’s heartbeat), covers it with his own, and slowly drags it down, over his stomach, making Adam lean away a little so there’s room. "After all, you should learn how to prep a guy, don't you think?"

"I— Yes, I."

"C'mere and kiss me, Adam," says Kris, as he guides Adam's hand past his cock (all hard and distracting and Adam decides that later he’s going to explore _that_ fully, with his hands and his mouth, going to see what Kris sounds like while Adam’s sucking him), between his legs.

"God," says Adam, and kisses him.

"Lube," says Kris, his mouth leaving Adam's to drag back to Adam's ear. "Get the lube, I think it's—"

Adam fumbles his arm out and gropes at the bedside table, where he saw the— Aha, yes. "Got it," he mumbles. "What do I— How should I— Do?"

"I'll talk you through it," says Kris. He scoots away from Adam, closer to the middle of the bed, and props himself up on the pillows at the head. "Don't worry."

Adam shakes his head. "I'm not," and it's completely untrue but Adam _wants_ it to be true, which he thinks should count for something. "So, I just...?"

"Coat your fingers," Kris instructs, and as Adam moves to obey, he reflects that Kris is using almost exactly the same tone as he does with his guitar students, except it's undercut by that firm, lusting voice he used to get Adam into his apartment in the first place. It’s _fucking hot_ , fuck, Adam’s never going to be able to watch Kris give a guitar lesson again without getting stupidly hard. "Get them nice and slick for me."

Adam opens the lube and gets some on his fingers; Kris is still holding his wrist, saying "Rub them together a little, warm it up, yes like that," and once his fingers are all shiny, Kris guides his hand back between his legs — which are falling apart like it doesn't bother him at all to be spread wide in front of Adam like this, totally open.

"Do I—" Adam starts to ask, voice uneven.

"Don't," says Kris. "Don't just— shove them, you've got to... ease into it. Just, rub over it... and careful with your nails... Yeah... Adam..."

Adam is a little afraid that he’s going to manage to do this horribly, horribly wrong and he’ll hurt Kris and Kris will never want to do this with him ever again, but Kris is flushed and breathing heavily, saying, “Okay, now push in, gently — just with one, to start, you’ve got big fingers Adam, God—” so Adam steels himself, and does. His finger slides in easily, with Kris still a little wet and loose from earlier anyway, and Kris makes a low, pleased noise.

“A little more,” he says, hips squirming down toward Adam’s hand, “go deeper, Adam.”

Adam’s already in past the first knuckle, but Kris told him deeper, so Adam presses harder and slides his finger in all the way.

"Yes, like that, good." Kris is staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, like he can't look at Adam while they do this, or maybe like he can't _focus_ on anything while they do this. "Now, now pump it, yeah, yes. And I can— In a minute, add another—"

Adam adds another. Kris's breath hitches, but he opens for it, smooth and easy. "Wow. God, wow," marvels Adam. "You take this so _well_."

"Not everyone is—" Kris gasps faintly as Adam gives his fingers an experimental little crook, but he recovers quickly. "Not everyone will be able to take so many fingers so fast, Adam. Remember that you should always go as slow as your partner need—"

That's— That's not a hot thing to be saying at all. Adam stops moving his fingers. "What," he says, flatly, "are you talking about?"

Kris doesn't look at him. "If you— When you do this with someone else, you need to know—"

Adam can't actually believe that Kris is saying something so _stupid_ , much less saying it while Adam's fingers are literally _up Kris's ass_.

"I can't believe you," he says, and when Kris looks like he's going to say something else, Adam crooks his fingers again because that seemed to derail Kris's thoughts pretty well before, and Kris's mouth falls open with a wordless sound. "I don't want to do this with _anyone_ but you." _Ever_ , he thinks. "I don't need to know about _someone else_."

"Oh," says Kris.

Adam stares up at him, wondering if he should elaborate on that, tell Kris about all the things he wants to do with Kris, and all the things he never wants to do without Kris, or if he should keep them all to himself.

Then, Kris says, "I want another finger."

"Fuck," groans Adam.

"Gimme another," urges Kris, rocking his hips impatiently. "Right now, come on."

Adam gives him another, stares as three of his fingers sink into Kris's slick, tight heat. He's breathing harder when he glances up, along Kris’s body, and Kris looks absolutely _wrecked_. There’s a vivid blush splashed high on his cheekbones and his eyes are dark, glassy slits, his lips slick and parted, swollen red where he’s been biting at them. He’s flushed down his chest and up his neck, too, his cock hard and leaking, smearing precome in a mess across his belly, his balls drawn up high and close, and he keeps jerking his hips, trying to rut himself down on the three fingers Adam’s got in his ass.

“Holy shit,” Adam groans, feeling reverent. “Holy shit, Kris.”

"Yeah," says Kris, and it should probably mean absolutely nothing but it kind of doesn't, " _yeah_."

Adam doesn't get to do much else, just thrust in a few times and spread his fingers a little when Kris suggests it, could really stay here and do this for a _lot_ longer, but he's not the only one involved here, and apparently the other person has quite a bit less patience.

“Okay, okay, God, get up here, I need your dick inside me _now_ ,” whines Kris, hands frantic on Adam’s shoulders. “Get— get a condom on and come _here_ , oh, God.”

Adam fumbles a little, nearly drops the condom entirely when Kris draws his legs up and hooks his hands under his knees to hold them there so he’s all spread and waiting for Adam, but somehow he manages to get his cock sheathed and fits himself over Kris, between his legs. He’s leaning on one arm, but he puts the other hand on his cock and uses it to line himself up, doesn’t want to mess this up, because Kris is still whining, saying “ _Now_ , Adam, come _on_ ,” and if Adam doesn’t get inside him soon he thinks Kris may kick him in the face.

Then Adam is pushing in, and he’d started to think maybe doing this again couldn’t live up to his memory of it because no _way_ was it that awesome — it isn’t, of course, because it is _better_ , and Adam feels a little delirious with it, all that tight, slick Kris wrapping around his cock, heat he can feel even through the condom, and this time he’s controlling it, _he’s_ the one in charge of how fast he sinks himself into Kris. He can draw it out, if he wants (he doesn’t), tease Kris with a slow, gently rocking pace, or go absolutely as hard and harsh and fast as he wants (he won’t, doesn’t want to hurt Kris). It’s _amazing_ , fuck, it’s better than anything _ever_ , and also he gets to listen to the noises Kris is making.

“God,” he pants, and his fingers grip harder at the backs of his knees, Adam can see them changing color with the pressure, “oh, my _God_ , Adam—”

And then, as Adam bottoms out, his hips pressed up right against Kris’s, his cock sunk all the way in Kris’s ass—

“Oh... _fuck_ ,” hisses Kris.

Adam stills immediately. “Kris?” he says, wary, because he has _never_ heard that word from Kris’s lips before.

Kris looks dazed, like he didn’t even hear Adam say his name. “Adam,” he says. And then, hitching his hips against Adam’s a little and hissing, he says again, “ _Adam_ , fuck.”

“Oh, God, did I hurt you?” says Adam, realizing, and feeling horrified. “God, I’m sorry, I should have prepped you more, Kris, fuck, sorry, sorry—”

He tries to pull away, but Kris lets go of his legs and wraps them around Adam’s hips.

“You didn’t,” he says, sounding almost drunk. “God, Adam, c’mon, just _fuck_ me.”

Adam has maybe, possibly, probably never seen or heard or thought of anything hotter than this. His hips snap forward, driving him in a little harder than he meant to.

Kris just moans and arches into it. "Yes, fuck, _yes_."

—

"God," says Adam, thrusting all forceful and steady and _awesome_ , "Kris."

Kris's brain isn't really working, occupied as he is with being stretched and spread and full, but he manages to make encouraging noises anyway, and after a few thrusts he realizes that, actually, Adam is talking.

"Go on," he's whispering, "Kris, go on, _say it again_."

Kris doesn't get it, right away, but then he does, and—

"Fuck, Adam. _Fuck me_."

Adam fucks him. He props himself on his forearms and he rocks, thrusting almost frantically fast, drawing curses from Kris every time a thrust is _just right_ , and if Kris goes silent for too long Adam leans in and licks at Kris's mouth, begs, "Again, baby, c'mon."

Kris thinks he could go crazy like this, and _love_ it.

"Adam," he pants, clutching at Adam's broad, freckled shoulders, "Adam, you need to—"

He's cut off by a quick, hard kiss. "Yeah? Tell me, tell me what you need."

"Put your hand on my dick," says Kris, his fingers digging in a little more, "want to feel you jerking me off while you fuck me."

Adam makes a noise that doesn't even resemble the English language. He shifts so all his weight's on one arm, gets a hand between them, wraps it around Kris's cock, and Kris's done, that's all she wrote.

As his orgasm hits, Kris tightens his grip on Adam, arms and legs both, holding him in close, keeping his dick buried deep. Adam grinds against him, moaning, as Kris shudders around him and keens his name pathetically.

"God _damn_ ," says Adam. He jerks inside Kris, then he's making an inhuman noise again, and Kris realizes that he's coming, too.

"Yeah," pants Kris.

Adam sort of half-collapses, blanketing Kris, drops his head to Kris's shoulder and turns his face against Kris's neck. "I— Shit, _Kris_ ," he says.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

After a minute, Kris talks his fingers out of gripping Adam’s shoulders, instead sliding up to his hair and carding gently through it. Into his neck, Adam makes a pleased, snuffling sound, and pushes his head into the caress.

“So,” says Kris, more like a croak.

There’s a wet touch of Adam’s lips against Kris skin, too sloppy to be called a kiss. “So?”

“Turns out, you’re kind of toppy, then.”

“I am? I mean.” Adam lifts his head and pulls away, propping himself on both elbows over Kris’s chest. “Yes, I am. Is that— Uhm. Okay?”

Kris huffs a laugh and doesn’t try to stop his rising blush. “Yeah, it’s. That’s... really okay, Adam.”

“Yeah?” Adam raises an eyebrow and starts to grin.

“Tell you a secret,” says Kris, feeling his own, answering grin taking over his face. He tugs Adam down, sets his lips to Adam’s ear, and whispers, “I kinda have a thing, for toppy bastards.”

Adam sort of groans and laughs into Kris's hair at the same time. "What, now I'm a bastard?"

For a second, Kris is thrown, because that's what he's always said to his partners in the past — like the jerk he went out with right after moving to San Diego, and all the dicks and the assholes he hooked up with during what Cale called his "slutty... _er_... phase", all guys who never treated Kris very well, and he knows they didn't, okay? Kris can own that the lot of them weren't very nice. But that was _them_ , and now there's Adam, who went to see an Oscar Wilde play with him today, who'll sit with him in the park watching him play his guitar and then have helpful suggestions to make, who freaked out and broke into Kris's apartment with a dozen cans of Campbell's chicken noodle and practically a whole pharmacy worth of medicine, frantic because Kris had the flu and was _alone_ — and yeah, maybe his previous guys hadn't ever objected to 'bastard', maybe they even deserved it, but if Kris thinks about it, really _thinks_ —

"No, you're not," he says quietly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, you're not a bastard."

"Kris?" When Kris drops his head back to the bed, Adam looks at him, a tiny line between his eyes. "What? I didn't— I was joking."

"I know. But I'm not." Kris twists around, wanting to kiss some part of Adam; the nearest bit is Adam's upper arm, so he kisses that. "You're not a bastard, not at all."

Adam doesn't look particularly reassured. "Thank you...?"

"You're better," Kris promises. "You're— actually you're kind of wonderful."

Adam's face goes pink.

Kris notices that though he looks uncomfortable, the way he usually does when Kris compliments him to his face, Adam also looks more unrestrainedly pleased about it than usual. He shakes his head, though, and ducks a little so he's not looking at Kris straight on.

"It's okay," he says. "I mean, I _can_ be a bastard. Just ask Tommy."

Yeah, because that would be a conversation Kris would enjoy. Asking one of Adam's closest friends whether Adam could be a bastard because Kris had happened to call him one after sex; yes, that sounded like fun.

 _Not_.

"Or Neil," Adam adds.

Kris huffs a laugh that shakes his body slightly, making Adam gasp and his hips stutter, trying to move away before Adam stills them. "Let's not talk about your brother while you're inside me, okay?"

"I—" Adam bites his lip, blushing more brightly. "Uhm."

God, Adam is so _adorable_. Kris wants to laugh again, just because he's so _happy_ , but he doesn't. Instead, he clears his throat, and says, "Actually, we should probably get cleaned up?"

Adam nods. "Yeah. That would be... yeah."

Kris lets his hands slide down until they're just resting lightly on Adam's biceps, and Adam starts to ease away, pulling out.

"Condom," says Kris, and Adam falters for a second. Kris smiles reassuringly. "Just... make sure you hold the condom while you— when you're— Uh, so that it doesn't... come off."

"Oh," says Adam. "I can— okay." He shifts his weight again, back onto one arm, and reaches down between them to grip the base of his cock as he pulls the rest of the way out.

Kris takes a deep breath and consciously resists making a noise of loss at the emptiness. "It's... important — especially if you're sleeping with someone whose history you're not—"

"Stop," Adam snaps, "talking like that."

"I was just saying—"

" _Don't_ ," says Adam, an annoyed, frowny look on his face. He strips off the condom, then stills with it in his hand, looking around awkwardly.

"Waste basket by the desk," Kris prompts. "Seriously, Adam—"

Adam scrambles off the bed to toss the condom, frowning. "Why do I have to know things about having sex with people if I'm only planning to have sex with _you_?"

Kris's eyes widen.

"I mean," says Adam hurriedly, blushing all over, "I mean _right now_ , I'm only planning to have sex with you. Uh."

"Right. Of course that's... what you meant." Kris clears his throat, tells himself sternly that no, he is not actually horribly disappointed, it'd be ridiculous to think Adam would really honestly want to only (ever!) have sex with _him_ , and Kris ought to be smart enough and sensible enough not to hope for something like that, anyway. "But you might— You could want to, later, in which case—"

"Then I'll make you give me your very best lecture about safety while having sex with not-you people, _when_ it becomes relevant."

"Adam..."

"C'mon, stop, please," says Adam, pouting at Kris as he crawls back into bed. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

Kris hesitates. He could push this, he knows that; he could force Adam to acknowledge that Kris knows better, that he's the one with the experience and he's _right_ , that if they're going to do this then Adam ought to at least _listen_ to Kris so that he'll take something away when it ends, even if it is a pathetically small something— Or, Kris can let it go. He can drop the subject and accept that _Adam_ knows best, knows what he wants (or what he thinks he wants), and that really, all of that's not an issue (though it kind of is, because Kris knows he's clean, yeah, but _Adam_ certainly doesn't, Adam doesn't actually know _anything_ about Kris's sexual history and he's treating it like it doesn't matter when for all he knows it could matter _a whole fucking lot_ , which they will be talking about at some point when they're not both naked, when Kris can feel his all his limbs again). Kris could ruin the afterglow for them both, or he can make Adam happy.

It's not really very much of a choice at all, actually.

"Dude," he says, trying to muster lightness into his tone, "what are you doing? You can't come back to bed yet."

Adam freezes. "What?"

Kris lifts his leg and pushes at Adam's shoulder with his foot. "Go get a freaking washcloth, Adam. I'm a mess, I can't sleep like this."

"... you want me to clean you up?"

The grin, Kris doesn't even have to force. "Didn't we just go over this? Yes, I want you to clean me up."

"Okay," says Adam, after a second, and gets back off the bed. He must have forgotten that he's naked, he moves so easily and un-self-consciously, long pale limbs and freckles everywhere, and he's _gorgeous_ , he’s amazing — and Kris is the first person, the _only_ person so far, to get to see him like this. (It's a fantastic view, an _awesome_ one, and Kris would look at it forever if he was allowed, every day for as long as Adam wants to let him, and— Actually. Wait.)

"You know," he starts, raising his voice a little as Adam heads toward the bathroom, "if you're going to be staying over very often—"

"Am I?" Adam calls back. He sounds a little bit uncertain, which, after everything? No. Not allowed. Just, no.

"Yeah. If you want. I mean, I'd like it if you did, so..."

Adam is back in the doorway, a wet cloth in his hand, smiling tentatively. "Yeah," he says. "I'd like it, too."

"Well. Okay," says Kris. "Good."

"Good," Adam echos.

The urge to stare at Adam is pretty much impossible to resist, so Kris doesn't try. He grins widely, trails his gaze down Adam's body and back up again. Adam blushes but he looks back steadily, his own eyes taking in Kris spread out on the bed like... like something shameless and very well fucked (which, yeah, is what Kris is), and smiles back.

After a minute of this foolishness, Adam seems to regain use of his braincells — Kris is still ogling, okay, he could seriously do this for _ages_ — and clears his throat. "You were saying something? About, uh, about if I stay?" he says, moving to awkwardly wipe up the mess on Kris's stomach; Kris arches into the touch a little, helplessly, because it feels so good to have Adam's hands on him, even just like this.

"If you're gonna do it very often, you could— You should bring some stuff over," says Kris.

Adam's hand pauses.

"I've got the room," Kris adds quickly. "Enough even for your shoe collection!"

"Really." Adam finishes with one last, long swipe, then tosses the washcloth in the direction of Kris's laundry pile. He sounds skeptical, or maybe amused.

"Okay, so maybe not for your shoe collection," admits Kris. "Nobody has that much room in their bedroom closet. But you could use the hall closet too; there's practically nothing in there."

"And... you wouldn't mind?"

Kris sighs. He reaches out and twines the fingers of one hand with Adam's, pulls Adam down next to him on the bed. "Adam. If I minded, would I offer?"

Adam shakes his head. "No. I guess you wouldn't."

"See? I don't mind." He leans over and presses a quick kiss to Adam's forehead. "So, do you want to?"

"Yes," says Adam, rather quickly.

Kris leans in again and kisses him properly, just for a moment, sliding his mouth over Adam's and licking his tongue between Adam's lips. "Okay," he says when he pulls back, and tries not to get totally sidetracked by the way Adam's gone a little bit starry-eyed again. "So, you're not busy tomorrow, right? We can go by Leila's house and get some of your things."

"Okay," Adam whispers. He looks like he wants to kiss Kris again.

Kris does it for him.

It's a slow kiss, warm and soft and deep, not trying to start anything more, just _kissing_ , and Kris thinks maybe it's his favorite one yet.

Adam takes a deep breath, when it's over, his eyes fluttering back open. He licks his lips (can he taste Kris there?), and asks, "You know what my mom said earlier, before she hung up?"

Kris doesn't. "What'd she say?"

"That I should invite my boyfriend to have dinner with us sometime soon."

Kris licks his lips. "Ah," he says, inanely.

Hesitating just for a second, and not _quite_ looking Kris in the eye, Adam says, "Would you like to have dinner with us, sometime soon, Kris?"

"Adam," Kris says, trying to smile not so much like a crazy person as just a really, really very happy person, "I would love to."

Adam smiles back at him, wide and radiant and _crazy_ happy.


End file.
